


it's a fantasy, taking over like a disease

by ibrokeeverything



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Damon has so many feelings, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibrokeeverything/pseuds/ibrokeeverything
Summary: "Each catch of breath, airy moan, or whisper of sweet nothings etched their way into his head, riling the smoldering embers to catch fire. The flames licked higher, sparking at his ribs. His mind started wandering, playing cruel tricks. What if it were him? What if he were the one pulling such alluring sounds from those rosy lips?"OrDamon hears Elena and Stefan together and it sparks a whole mess of emotions.
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, One Sided Elena/Damon, mentioned elena/stefan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	it's a fantasy, taking over like a disease

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime around season two, but it doesn't really affect the story too much.

The day was lovely: sun shining, birds chirping, and all that. For what seemed like once in his life, there was no life or death crap clouding his enjoyment of the day. No murderous vampires or vengeful hunters were after him. His past was just that, still in the past, where it belonged. Katherine was nowhere to be found and he could finally have some peace. While he lived to be the life of the party, sometimes Damon found himself wanting to relax as well. Who could blame him? Life was freaking stressful, especially with werewolves and originals on the move. So, on this rare day with nothing to kill his mood, he settled down with an old book and a glass of bourbon. Or, at least that’s what he planned to do, until Elena waltzed in. 

She’d come to see Stefan of course. Apparently, they also wanted to take advantage of the nice day. Greetings were traded, maybe his a little too friendly. Stefan shot him a glare so sharp it could kill. Oh, the irony. As fantastic as it would be to poke fun and ruin their little date, or whatever it was, he didn’t really feel like paying for it later. And he absolutely would with Stefan’s current distrust for him. So when they retreated up to his room, he let them go, instead settling down on the couch. Damon reclined back, laying his head on the arm. He set his glass down on the floor and cracked open his book. He couldn’t remember what it was about, some adventure or something. Still, it was one he read when he was alive, and he couldn’t shake the attachment to it. Rolling his eyes at the sentiment, he let his gaze settle on the first line. 

Time stretched out, seconds bleeding into minutes. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of turning pages and muffled voice drifting down the stairs. Vampire senses only went so far. Even though he could hear every word, he couldn’t make them all out. It all sounded a bit jumbled, sounds not distinct from one another. Here and there, he’d catch a word, but most blurred together.

There was something almost sweet about the domesticity of it all. Sure, maybe a little sickly sweet, but sweet nonetheless. It made him a bit nostalgic for a life he never had. One where he never became a predator, a murderer. Maybe it could’ve been him and Katherine, or some other girl he would’ve met in Mystical Falls, way back in 1864. They could have fallen in love, settled down. Maybe they’d have Stefan over for dinner once a week. He could’ve had the life his stupid 25 year old self craved. And man, did he crave it. He dreamed about finding a loving wife, building a family, and happily living out the rest of his days. And, when Katherine strutted into his life, he thought he’d found the woman of his dreams. She challenged him, made him work, but she was fun. Little did he know she was the stuff of nightmares, a rose covered from bloom to tip with thorns. If you took hold, you wouldn’t just get pricked, but torn open, bled for all you’re worth. 

Then, something pulled him from his musings. The conversation had stopped, words no longer a constant hum in the background. It was different now. He could still hear them, but the sounds had changed. His ears caught a gasp, followed by a pitched whine. Instantly, his buzz was shattered and stomped on, ground to pieces. His good day was officially ruined by his little brother and his girlfriend who apparently couldn’t keep it in their pants. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him. Perhaps he’d even be proud of Stefan for letting go of that saintly persona of his and getting a girl. But, of course it had to be Elena. At first, his interest in her was completely harmless. Well, maybe not completely. She was gorgeous after all. But, he was more interested in finding out who could rope Stefan into staying in Mystic Falls. Of course, as soon as he saw her he knew why. She looked just like Katherine, but her personality was oh so different. 

She stood up to him, something no girl, or person for that matter, had done in quite a long time. That’s when she really caught his attention. Who knew a slap in the school parking lot at a football game would be the beginning of a spiral, a loss of carefully gained control. For over one hundred years he built up wall after wall, making sure no one could ever really know him, or more importantly, hurt him. It was easy, flipping off that humanity switch, coupled with compulsion, led to a pretty comfortable life. Girls would fall at his feet, he’d have fun with a one night stand, then move on to the next one. Then, Elena stormed in and broke them all down. He found himself actually caring, and eventually loving. But of course, that girl also stole Stefan’s heart. The Salvatore brothers seemed doomed to fall for the same girl in life and in death. But somehow, Damon always seemed to be on the losing side. That prompted a whole mountain of self-loathing thoughts to claw at his mind. Was Stefan just better than him? Was he unlovable? Would any girl ever really love him? Did he just fall for the wrong girls? What about Elena? Did she feel anything for him at all?

Pushing those thoughts aside with something just short of a growl, Damon snapped his book shut. There was no way he was getting any reading done now. Heavy breaths were just audible, interrupted by a keening whine rolling off Elena’s lips. The sound shot straight down his spine, stirring up something smoldering low in his stomach. Reaching down, Damon blindly grasped at his glass. As soon as his fingers brushed cool glass, he brought it to his lips and drained it in one long sip. The alcohol burned down his throat, adding to the fire being coaxed alive deep inside him. Not enough. Pulling himself upright, Damon glanced around the room, looking for wherever he left the damn bourbon bottle. The crystalline glass gleamed over by the fireplace, sitting on an end table. He strode over, grabbed the bottle and tossed the stopper on the ground. Wasn’t going to be needing that anytime soon. 

Taking a healthy swig from the bottle, he tried to ignore every sound, shut out his sense of hearing. Naturally, it was impossible, especially for a vampire. Each catch of breath, airy moan, or whisper of sweet nothings etched their way into his head, riling the smoldering embers to catch fire. The flames licked higher, sparking at his ribs. His mind started wandering, playing cruel tricks. What if it were him? What if he were the one pulling such alluring sounds from those rosy lips? Her sleek dark hair would cascade around him as he pressed open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. He’d stop at her pulse point, feel it jump under his ministrations. Whispering dirty things in her ear, he’d splay his hands across her body, greedy to drink in her exposed skin. Her head would tip back and a breathless moan would escape her lips, just like the one filtering through the closed door. 

Shaking off the delusions, daydreams, fantasies, whatever sounded less pathetic, he brought the bottle back to his lips. Drinking like he was trying to empty the bottle, he swallowed down copious amounts of the liquid. Luckily, since he was already dead, he couldn’t exactly die from alcohol poisoning. The bourbon quieted the ache and stoked the fire. It helped him forget exactly why Elena was currently making such tempting sounds. It also provided a convenient excuse to tell himself later, no matter how much of a lie it was. He could tell himself that it was just the alcohol. If he was drunk, maybe getting turned on by his brother’s girlfriend would be just a little less pitiful. Sure, that sounded good, better than the truth anyway. Roughly dragging a hand through his hair, he tried to settle the wrestling emotions tearing at him. This was wrong, but it felt so right. Heat swam through his body, spreading further, consuming him. Then, he heard what he’d been trying to block out. 

“Stefan.” That word, gasped out between panting breaths, complicated everything. Damon felt like he’d been doused with cold water, soaked to the bone. That was something he couldn’t ignore, push away. There was no pretending anymore. But, the icy cold was quickly followed by gasoline and a sparking match. Frustration, desperation, passion, and guilt tangled into an angry knot before bursting into flames. He took one more drink before dropping the bottle on the floor. Stalking up to his room and shedding his shirt on the way, he slammed the door shut behind him, putting another closed door between himself and the source of his misery (and affection). He headed straight for the shower, turning on the water, scalding hot. The constant drum of droplets hitting the floor, paired with two closed doors, drowned out her voice. He was all alone with his thoughts now. Maybe that was better, maybe it was worse. Fumbling with his belt buckle, he wrestled out of his jeans before stepping under the hot spray. It was just shy of burning his skin, perfect. Pleasure mingled with pain, the edge of his own feelings sharper than any blade. 

Everything was rushed, hurried. His forehead was pressed against cold, rigid stone while clouds of steam plumed out putting a haze over the whole room. Fingers skimmed over his skin, rougher than she would have been. Overwhelmed, devoured by conflicting, but raging emotions, it was over quickly. The pleasure was wrung from his body, drained out like the blood of his victims. Now, with the passionate flames all burned out, he was left raw and lonely. Hollowness crept in to replace the consuming frenzy of thoughts of her. Reality bit back in, cutting away fantasies of everything that’d never be his. He wrapped a towel around his waist, not even bothering to dry off properly before sitting down on the end of his bed. Guilt chewed at his conscience, starting the downward slide. What the hell was he doing anyway? Pushing back the damp hair sticking to his forehead, he dropped his head into his hands. Before Elena everything made sense. Blood, girls, drinks, repeat. It was as simple as that. It was all so messy now, emotions so tangled he feared they’d never be sorted out. 

That was the worst part about heightened emotions. When they were good, they felt absolutely amazing. But, the bad were devastating and confusion nearly debilitating. Feelings fucking sucked, no way around it. No matter how badly he wanted to switch them off like a light, Damon couldn’t bring himself to do it. Losing the pain would mean losing the love, and without it, he had nothing. She was all he had left. Sometimes, it was just easier to slide that dimmer switch down a little though, take the edge off. It wouldn’t fix anything, but it got him through the day and right now, that was about all he could ask for. 


End file.
